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William Marr Jun 2017
off the view
a tree stands in mute amazement
watching beside him
another group of tourists
devour the scenery
with flashy teeth
Nic Loria Jun 2017
it is all but
Lovers
whose smile extended to their ears
indulging the moment. it
is just light afterall
reflecting the minuest
of ****** expressions
suspended and trapped
on sheets of film. thus
to create illusions of eternity
light must be held captive -
a victim
by flashes
lasting
a heartbeat.

it is none
but a failed attempt
of a millisecond
to preserve

Love.
shakti iyer Jun 2017
~Wanna watch you play
your guitar,

so so mellifluous.

stare at your lips singing
for me.

sitting on the floor with
my hands on my knees

the sense of moment
so ineffable

and then,
I forget oblivion.~
hello, i wrote this out of imagination one morning.
i wanna make this  to reality.
Marye Minstrel Jun 2017
The dirt of dusty decades
Lies upon the lath
Beneath a piece of plaster
I found a photograph

They smiled from the centuries;
Those mysterious three
Sent the musty memories
A message meant for me

Sara’s grave is gone, I guess
So long since laid low,
Yet, despite her ancient death
She smiles and waves ‘hello’

I cannot tell Annie’s age,
The words do not say
The owner wrote only names
Her face has frayed away

The baby in the buggy
Lifts a lively hand
She sits between her sisters
Beside the shining sand

This will be the only piece
From the dust so brown
That preserves their memory
Once we tear this house down
The story of an old daguerreotype I found inside a wall. The house was being demolished.
WickedHope May 2017
moon time
star shine
echoes in my bones
can't feel my toes
hearing your voice is a shot of adrenaline
and not the good kind
my body rattles through the silence
and meteors shower my soul
memories are too raw to call
but they come without beckoning
in flashes meteors tear through the atmosphere
and i lay immobile as they become a camera shutter
one flash... and there is your smile, a lopsided grin
I wrote this a month ago: 4/29/17
For JMS
Emma Whittle Apr 2017
She grabbed her faux leather messenger bag,
threw in 3 old band t-shirts, 3 pairs of underwear,
2 bras and a couple pairs of ripped skinny jeans, her Polaroid camera to take photographs of where she goes, a book, a journal to document her thoughts, a sketch pad, a package of Marlboro Red 100's, a lighter,  her iPod and some toiletries.  She didn't say anything, she just out and left. No note, no warning, nothing but her mess of a room.  She smiled at her room, her dream catcher, her poster-strewn walls, all of it.
And she slipped out of her window.  'Goodbye,' She thought to herself and started walking.  But what she didn't know was she had
just left her life and started a brand new one.  She was walking to the edge of oblivion.  She was shooting herself straight off a cliff,
off of the safety under her roof, the safety of her bed, the safety of everything she left behind.  All she had was that bag.  17 items. That was her life. 17 items to keep her safe, 17 items to live on for the rest of her time.  For the 3 years until she was 18.  Until she could show her face in public again until she could be seen.  But until then, she was alone.  She sparked her lighter and lit up a cigarette.  All alone with her bag and a package of cigarettes. She sat down on the curb by the bus stop and began to draw.  And that was that.  She was lost in her mind. Her mind had run farther than she had. Because after all,
we're
               all
                              mad
                           ­                       here..
Have you ever just wanted to run away? No note, no warning of leave, just pack your things and leave your world to create your own. To taste the edge of oblivion.
PSR Apr 2017
Pleasing To The Eye, The Heart And The Soul.
Let Me Capture This Moment Forever.
A Living Hard Copy To Remind Me.
With The Passage Of Time
As Memories Turn To Dust And
People And Places Cease To Be Real,
I Will Have This And I Will Know,
IT WAS GOOD
Scarlet Niamh Mar 2017
His eyes were gleaming
in her wake; black and white
yet holding all of the colours she could see.
If it was possible for eyes to refract
in prismatic glory, his did,
and only for her.
Her hair, blowing
in front of her eyes and half obscuring
her wild laugh,
being brushed aside by a straying,
tender hand. They tried
to stay so solemn, so serious,
but they couldn't help it.
Love like that, when it shines like that...
It can't be dimmed.
~~ A poem based on an old photograph I once saw. ~~
Mysidian Bard Mar 2017
All I have is a photograph
and a blank page with your name,
our lives have clearly changed,
but my heart still feels the same.

So I write down a few scattered lines,
and add a chord or two,
just trying to make new memories of you.

I'll play this song beneath the stars,
watch it dance into the sky.
If on the wind my words do fly,
then you'll hear my lullaby.

Will you look above and think of me
as a shooting star breaks through,
maybe words will make wishes come true.

Now I have a brand new page
with a picture, poem, and song.
I know it's been so long,
but my love's still standing strong.

If a picture paints a thousand words
then this poem will never do,
but I want to make new memories with you.
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